Alexia's POV
He remembers.
Good Lord.
He remembers.
Why now?
Why when everything was finally starting to go right? When the walls between us were falling, when I thought—for one goddamn second—I could be happy?
The universe really does hate me.
I locked the bathroom door behind me with shaky fingers and slid to the floor, my knees folding under the weight of everything crashing down, pressing a trembling hand to my mouth to keep from sobbing. My legs barely held me up. My chest was caving in.
He looked at me like I was poison.
Like I'd betrayed him in a way no apology could ever fix.
Because I had.
Not in this life—but in the last one. The one I'd spent years trying to forget. Or maybe just bury. Pretend it was a dream. A story someone else lived and I somehow inherited the guilt for.
But the screaming never really stopped.
And now I knew why.
God, he remembers.
